


one step backwards, two steps...

by wordsinthedark (VanScritto)



Category: Formula E RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 23:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20920520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanScritto/pseuds/wordsinthedark
Summary: Text messages don't have a tone of voice. There's no way you could tell from one word flashing up in a generic font on your screen what the sender's mood is.And yet.Alex never sends one word answers and he doesn't leave Mitch on read for two hours without giving an explanation after. Especially not when he's not racing.And that's why Mitch is here, really, in cold and wet London weather, climbing up the flight of stairs to Alex' flat. It sounds a bit ridiculous when he thinks about it, getting on a plane because of a one word text message — which is why he pushes the thought aside and just hopes for the best, when he rings the doorbell.





	one step backwards, two steps...

**Author's Note:**

> Am I a little bit upset about Alex not being on the Jaguar team in season 6? Why yes, I am.

Text messages don't have a tone of voice. There's no way you could tell from one word flashing up in a generic font on your screen what the sender's mood is.

And yet.

Alex never sends one word answers and he doesn't leave Mitch on read for two hours without giving an explanation after. _Especially_ not when he's not racing.

And that's why Mitch is here, really, in cold and wet London weather, climbing up the flight of stairs to Alex' flat. It sounds a bit ridiculous when he thinks about it, getting on a plane because of a one word text message — which is why he pushes the thought aside and just hopes for the best, when he rings the doorbell.

There's no sound inside, no shuffling behind the door, no TV in the background. Maybe Alex isn't even home. Mitch bounces on the balls of his feet, the nervous jitters in his bones having nowhere else to go. He just _knows_, though, and fuck it, he's going to use the key Alex gave him once for _emergency reasons_.

He closes the door gently and drops his duffle bag in the entryway.

There is a ruffling sound, and then, "I'm in here, Mitch."

Mitch toes off his sneakers and steps around to Alex' bedroom, where he finds him bundled up in not one, but two blankets, staring at Mitch in a way as if he's looking for a fight.

"I'm sorry I let myself in, I guess it's not really an emergency, but I rang the bell and—"

"It's fine." Alex shrugs.

"How'd you even know it was me?"

"There are only two people with a key and my mother doesn't ring the doorbell before she comes in. She calls, though."

Mitch huffs. "I got the feeling you weren't in a chatty mood."

Alex shrugs again and for a second, Mitch isn't sure if he's maybe supposed to leave, if he overstepped the boundaries of whatever this thing between them is. "It's a no from the team," Alex says.

The words don't make sense and Alex laughs a little when Mitch frowns.

"Jaguar," Alex clarifies. "I'm not going to be on the team next season."

"I… what?!"

This can't be right. Mitch has been dropping hints about wanting to keep Alex with anyone who would listen, quite clearly even told James in private how important this was to him before he signed the contract last week. They have to sign Alex, they just _have_ to.

Alex just shrugs _again_, and how is this the only reaction Mitch is getting right now? Alex lifts up the blankets a little, maybe to just let in some fresh air, but Mitch takes it as an invitation and flings himself onto the mattress, crawling into the burrito Alex built.

"I'll talk to James," Mitch says.

"No." It sounds harsh, almost like a slap in the face. "It's done, Mitch. Just… I don't want to talk about it, okay."

Alex grabs for Mitch, then, his long fingers digging underneath the sweatshirt Mitch is still wearing. It shouldn't be possible for Alex to feel small against Mitch's side, pulling up his legs to wrap his entire body around Mitch. Alex is the big spoon, damn it, Alex always has a solution. But there they are and Mitch doesn't know what to do with it.

"Okay."

***

It's a fucking sauna, is what this is.

Mitch blinks his eyes open and shit, he must have fallen asleep earlier, buried underneath a mountain of blankets fully clothed and with Alex' breath against his neck. It's comfortable, the kind of intimacy they're rarely ever allowed between their busy schedules and Mitch really wants to bask in it, in Alex' affection, but he's hot and sweaty, and then it hits him again what Alex has said.

_It's a no from the team._

It's a no from _his_ team, the team that Mitch has made his home at for the past three years. Okay, maybe he's not in any position to make demands, but James loves Alex and Mitch had thought that they'd _agreed_ somewhere in all of their talks. The last half of the season went as well as it did for them because of the atmosphere, because Alex made it all so easy and James _knows_ that,he just has to know it, why would he—

"I can hear you thinking," Alex mumbles, his hand drawing small circles on Mitch's skin. "Please don't."

"I didn't know," is all Mitch can think of to say. "I told them, Ace, I…"

Alex pulls his head back to look at Mitch. He frowns, eyes flickering across Mitch's face, like he's analyzing a track. "I know. You did the best you could, I know."

His voice is calm and he looks so closed off, emotionless, that Mitch just wants to scream on his behalf. He wants to call James, or better yet, _Mark_, wants to check if he has enough pull to make this decision undone. Maybe Mitch should have just put that in his contract, but then, fuck, that would have been a bit obvious now, wouldn't it?

"It's probably just one DNF too many, you know." Alex shrugs and _please, for the love of God_ can Alex just show some emotion about this? Mitch is about to explode, keeping it barely together on Alex' behalf, but Alex is...

"You scored more points than Nelson. I only won in Rome because of you," Mitch tries to reassure.

"Don't say that." But Alex smiles and if it gets Alex to smile, Mitch will say it over and over. "You did that all on your own."

"Maybe I was just trying to impress you."

Alex smiles again. "Worked. I was very impressed. _Am_ very impressed."

It dawns on Mitch that maybe his good results made Alex' results seem even worse and opens his mouth to apologize, but suddenly can't because Alex is kissing him. "Let's not talk about it anymore," Alex mumbles against his mouth.

He moves to straddle Mitch, and Mitch notices just how considerably less clothing Alex is wearing. Which is to say, none.

Mitch already feels too hot, and Alex' tongue in his mouth is not helping matters. A whine escapes from the back of his throat and he tries to sit up, tries to flip them, so he can get his clothes off and show Alex just how _sorry_ he is about this, but Alex doesn't seem to want to budge. Instead, he rocks his hips down and Mitch is glad he opted for sweatpants this morning and not his jeans, because when it comes to Alex, Mitch has always been embarrassingly easy.

"Clothes," Mitch says when Alex moves to kiss his jaw. "I need…"

"To get them off, yeah," Alex finishes and bites a spot on Mitch's neck that's sure to be bruised tomorrow. He still makes no move to get off Mitch, though, despite all of Mitch's pushing and pulling. Mitch finally _gets it_ and pulls Alex closer instead, and Alex makes a content sigh and just _melts_ into him. Mitch can feel Alex' erection sliding against his own through the fabric, but the rutting motion isn't nearly enough to get either of them off — maybe that's not the point right now, though.

Mitch lets one hand trail over Alex' body, tracing his ribcage, the other firmly holding the back of Alex' head to at least have a little bit of control.

Control that is immediately taken away when Alex sits up, disturbing the blanket burrito.

The sudden rush of cool air makes Mitch dizzy — or maybe that's just the sight of naked Alex, looking down on him with such intensity that Mitch would rather move away if he weren"t pinned to the mattress.

Alex doesn't talk much. He never does, not like Mitch, who says anything that comes to his mind — Alex' words are measured, carefully chosen at all times, dished out with a goal in mind. Which is why Mitch treasures every little verbal affirmation he gets, like _I like that shirt on you_ or any of jokingly sexual comments they leave each other on Instagram. But he also knows that a lot goes unsaid, and he's become pretty good at reading Alex' face in the years. He knows that Alex is thinking of saying something right now while pushing Mitch's sweatshirt up aimlessly.

Mitch is expecting something casually sexual, like _you look really good like that_ or maybe even _I want to fuck you_, if he got really lucky, but instead Alex says, "I was going to ask you to move in with me."

Mitch hears himself draw in a breath and there's that sort of lopsided smile that Alex does when his carefully measured words don't hit the mark quite as he maybe intended.

"If I got the spot, you know," Alex clarifies. "I mean, it'd make sense with the factory here and you wouldn't have to lug your stuff around each time and… yeah."

_But it rains all the time here_, comes to Mitch's mind, right before, _you should move in with me instead._ Alex scratches over the skin of Mitch's belly as if waiting for something, so Mitch whispers, "Ask me."

Alex looks away, gently pinching Mitch's sides. "I did, didn't I?"

"No, you said you were going to." Mitch struggles to sit up and Alex lets him, scooting a little further down on his lap. "Ask me. _Please._"

Alex just looks at him again, sighs, and Mitch is sure that now he's just dragging this out to mess with him. As if to prove him right, Alex rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Well, top drawer is yours if you—"

"I want it. Don't even question that, idiot," Mitch interrupts and then reaches out to drag Alex in for a kiss. He can't quite decide between kissing and _doing_, half tempted to get out of bed just to grab his bag and empty it into the drawer as some sort of official claim, but Alex surprises him again by pawing at his sweatshirt.

"_Now_ we take your clothes off," he whispers, pulling back just enough todrag the sweatshirt over Mitch's head and throwing it off to the side.

There's a different air around them now that Mitch is topless, an urgency to Alex' moves, grabbing, kissing, nipping and biting at Mitch's skin with intent, pushing Mitch back into the mattress and wasting no time trailing kisses down across his chest. He slows down as he reaches the hem of the sweatpants, lingers there and smoothly avoids Mitch's attempts to get his crotch closer to Alex' face.

"Come on, Ace," Mitch whines. He's sort of tempted to just grab Alex' hair and push him in the right direction, but Alex is not having it and catches both of Mitch's hands in his.

"Give me this," he says when Mitch looks at him. "Just… let me…"

"Okay."

Mitch won't make Alex spell this one out. He settles back and waits for Alex' mouth on his skin again, moaning when he brushes his nose against Mitch's cock on his way up.

Alex licks and kisses and bites, sucks a bruise into a spot near Mitch's hipbone and slowly trails one hand to his crotch to trace the outline of Mitch's cock through the fabric. It takes all of Mitch's self-control to not buck up into the touch.

Seriously, _fuck_ Alex and his kinks.

But also, _fuck Alex _— Mitch really enjoys doing that.

"Please don't make me come in these pants," he groans and Alex has the audacity to actually laugh at him, like he doesn't know exactly how turned on Mitch is by the noises he can't hold back, the constant litany of _yes_, _please_ and _Ace, come on _and all the things he doesn't even hear himself say. Mitch is easy like that — very much unlike Alex.

The only indication Mitch has of Alex' arousal is his hard on rubbing against Mitch's leg.

But Alex takes mercy and finally drags the pants down over Mitch's hips and off. The sweat on Mitch's overheated skin makes him shiver in the cool air of the room and God, that's really not at all sexy, but Alex doesn't seem to mind. He traces both hands up Mitch's legs, maneuvers himself between them.

"I really like seeing you in this bed," he says just as he closes one hand around Mitch's cock and _fuck_, that's not even a sexual thing to say, why is it such a turn on? "In _my_ bed," Alex clarifies, for good measure.

He sets a rough rhythm with his hand, seemingly deciding to end whatever slow torture he had going on all of a sudden and Mitch is struggling to keep his eyes open and locked with Alex'. He's not even sure why it's important, but he gets the feeling that it _is_, that Alex really wants it this way today. Mitch is not going to complain, even though he does really want Alex closer, to get back under the blankets and trap the warmth between them.

Alex complies, like he's read Mitch's mind, and covers Mitch's body with his own. It's instantly hot again, skin rubbing against skin.

"Fuck, Ace," Mitch groans and Alex buries his face in Mitch's neck, rutting against him.

Mitch thinks about the drawer, about Alex spending time to clear it out for him, about the emergency key he's had for years now, even though there's not really any emergency that Mitch could fix all the way from Monaco. He thinks about the hotel rooms over the years, the rushed and silent handjobs and how _different_ it can be here where Mitch won't have to hold back any moans and they won't have to be careful about banging the headboard too hard against the wall. He thinks about Alex cornering him in Rome after his win and sucking him off in the paddock right within fucking earshot of _everyone_ and how close they were to getting caught had Mitch not come within literally seconds of Alex' mouth on him. Mitch would definitely return the favor if it were the other way around.

And yeah, maybe it is a good thing that they're not on the same team and Mitch doesn't even need Alex on his team when he can have him here, in this bed — _their bed_, he thinks sappily, just as Alex moans into his ear and comes with a shudder.

_It could be like this all the time_, Mitch thinks and it's easily the sappiest thought he's ever had right before an orgasm, but all he sees is Alex watching him with that lopsided smile again as he goes under.

Alex kisses him, as he always does _after_, right before he usually untangles himself from Mitch. It's one of those things Alex never says with words, the reassurance that this isn't just a casual thing and Mitch _loves it_, even though it has gotten them close to being caught more than once in the past.

Today, Alex takes his time, though, despite the sticky mess between them, every movement sending aftershocks up Mitch's spine.

Mitch strokes Alex' hair, scratching his scalp lazily, before he clears his throat. "You do realize I'm going to need more than one drawer if I'm supposed to survive winter here, yes?"


End file.
